SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate
Verfasst: 02 Sep 2010 03:28
The rank smell of hive sewers filled Lev's nose. "The smell of Volg" he thought to himself as he pulled on his pipe.
He was perched on a precariously narrow piece of metal more than a hundred meters above the level of the walkways. His back leaned on the wall of one of the tallest towers in the hive. This one, called the rust spire, controlled the water intake for the recyk processes in the vats below. He pulled on his pipe again.
"Three stories and then some" he mused "so much work for so much gelt". He knew that the only thing that protected his target were the locks in the tower base, no guards, no bio-scanners, nothing but a series of voice-code doors that allowed the system controllers to live in relative security.
With a flick of his wrist he emptied the bowl of his pipe into the air. "Time to earn my keep" he mumbled.
Hand after hand he climbed the almost sheer metal surface of the tower, all without a rope or other device to secure him.
After an eternity of searching for handholds and climbing, he reached the half-level of the tower. He clung to the shadows watching the adepts working at their workstations, their daily lives spent on controlling the filtering processes that secured Volg's survival. Too unimportant to be staffed with tech-priest the system was controlled by washouts, adepts that failed in their duties and were sent to Volg to rot away in it's corrosive atmosphere.
Checking room after room he looked for his target, the main valve operator Tetsujin, a former scribe to some noble house up in Magnagorsk.
The contract on him was high enough to evoke dreams in the mind of the average Volger, 100 Thrones in bone coin, freshly carved and not chipped, a fortune that could feed a man for a year.
And no dangers involved save for the lack of access.
He entered a small room with several large holo-displays, there was only one occupant and it was no one else but the Adept. Normally Adepts all looked alike, hunched over, thin, pale skinned and short sighted. But Tetsujin was different, he was tall and gaunt, his left eye replaced with an implant and his mouth sewn shut with steel wire. His slate gray skin reminded Lev of something but he could not put his finger on it, it didn't matter he thought as he aimed for the man's head with his pistol. He pulled the trigger and heard the silenced sound of a bullet leaving his gun, the adepts head exploded in a gory fountain as his brain splattered on the display.
"And that's that my dead friend" he said more to himself than to anyone. But the adept didn't fall, he merely turned to face the assassin.
"What in Throne's name?!?" Lev pulled the trigger several times pumping the adept with lead. "Die already you fuck!!"
The man lumbered forward raising his thin arms to strike, the room filled with a smell of rotting flesh and discharge.
The gun clicked informing Lev that he ran out of bullets. He dropped it and pulled his saber out. "You won't get me."
The abomination swung his arm hitting Lev in the face with a hand. Luckily there was no strength behind the hit, but it was insulting enough.
"I'm going to chop your arms off and piss into your neck!" he shouted as he cut with his saber into the left side of the adept.
After some wild parries ha managed to bring down the monstrosity. Then he registered the smell that permeated the room and graciously thrown the remains of his breakfast onto his boots.
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It was a back room in some unnamed dive in the lower hive. He stretched his boots on the table, his new boots, since the coin came through for the Adept's death. He pulled on the pitcher of fungus ale and enjoyed the taste. "I could get used to this."
The door creaked and a robed man entered the room, he was the man who ordered Tetsujin's death and he had some answer's for Lev.
"So you are the man that I should thank for my new fortune..." Lev eyed him and as he spoke, "but I won't since no normal man can take a bullet to his head and keep on going."
"You are right." The man's voice was artificial and grating, he pulled his hood down to reveal himself. Lev almost fell over as he saw the face of his benefactor. Instead of a nose and a mouth the man had a mass of cables, filters and vocalizers, his head was shaved and on his forehead he had an ominous tattoo in the form of a series of numbers.
"96.XXXIX.05" Lev looked at the man and tried to make a connection. Finally it hit him, when he was a ganger he fought with an armed intervention of the imperial guard, nothing big just a food riot, the governor sent a penal legion to deal with it and while the numbers on their heads were different he knew that the man standing before him was a penal legionnaire.
"So the Imperial Guard has an interest in wayward adepts? I'm surprised." He tried to put up an act of confidence but failed as the man across the room unnerved him.
"You know what I was? My master will be pleased, but no I'm not part of the Guard, though I was before. I serve a greater power now."
"And what power is that, you were saying?"
"The Inquisition" the guardsman pulled his cloak away showing an ornate carapace armor, a chainsword and a gold plated bolt pistol. From his left pauldron hung the inquisitorial rosette. Lev came crashing down as his balance was disturbed by the implications of his situation. "Do not fear me assassin, I'm here to congratulate you. You passed my master's test."
The Guardsman pulled his hood over the head. "Welcome to the rest of your life, Lev Zaxarevich."
He was perched on a precariously narrow piece of metal more than a hundred meters above the level of the walkways. His back leaned on the wall of one of the tallest towers in the hive. This one, called the rust spire, controlled the water intake for the recyk processes in the vats below. He pulled on his pipe again.
"Three stories and then some" he mused "so much work for so much gelt". He knew that the only thing that protected his target were the locks in the tower base, no guards, no bio-scanners, nothing but a series of voice-code doors that allowed the system controllers to live in relative security.
With a flick of his wrist he emptied the bowl of his pipe into the air. "Time to earn my keep" he mumbled.
Hand after hand he climbed the almost sheer metal surface of the tower, all without a rope or other device to secure him.
After an eternity of searching for handholds and climbing, he reached the half-level of the tower. He clung to the shadows watching the adepts working at their workstations, their daily lives spent on controlling the filtering processes that secured Volg's survival. Too unimportant to be staffed with tech-priest the system was controlled by washouts, adepts that failed in their duties and were sent to Volg to rot away in it's corrosive atmosphere.
Checking room after room he looked for his target, the main valve operator Tetsujin, a former scribe to some noble house up in Magnagorsk.
The contract on him was high enough to evoke dreams in the mind of the average Volger, 100 Thrones in bone coin, freshly carved and not chipped, a fortune that could feed a man for a year.
And no dangers involved save for the lack of access.
He entered a small room with several large holo-displays, there was only one occupant and it was no one else but the Adept. Normally Adepts all looked alike, hunched over, thin, pale skinned and short sighted. But Tetsujin was different, he was tall and gaunt, his left eye replaced with an implant and his mouth sewn shut with steel wire. His slate gray skin reminded Lev of something but he could not put his finger on it, it didn't matter he thought as he aimed for the man's head with his pistol. He pulled the trigger and heard the silenced sound of a bullet leaving his gun, the adepts head exploded in a gory fountain as his brain splattered on the display.
"And that's that my dead friend" he said more to himself than to anyone. But the adept didn't fall, he merely turned to face the assassin.
"What in Throne's name?!?" Lev pulled the trigger several times pumping the adept with lead. "Die already you fuck!!"
The man lumbered forward raising his thin arms to strike, the room filled with a smell of rotting flesh and discharge.
The gun clicked informing Lev that he ran out of bullets. He dropped it and pulled his saber out. "You won't get me."
The abomination swung his arm hitting Lev in the face with a hand. Luckily there was no strength behind the hit, but it was insulting enough.
"I'm going to chop your arms off and piss into your neck!" he shouted as he cut with his saber into the left side of the adept.
After some wild parries ha managed to bring down the monstrosity. Then he registered the smell that permeated the room and graciously thrown the remains of his breakfast onto his boots.
----------------------------------------
It was a back room in some unnamed dive in the lower hive. He stretched his boots on the table, his new boots, since the coin came through for the Adept's death. He pulled on the pitcher of fungus ale and enjoyed the taste. "I could get used to this."
The door creaked and a robed man entered the room, he was the man who ordered Tetsujin's death and he had some answer's for Lev.
"So you are the man that I should thank for my new fortune..." Lev eyed him and as he spoke, "but I won't since no normal man can take a bullet to his head and keep on going."
"You are right." The man's voice was artificial and grating, he pulled his hood down to reveal himself. Lev almost fell over as he saw the face of his benefactor. Instead of a nose and a mouth the man had a mass of cables, filters and vocalizers, his head was shaved and on his forehead he had an ominous tattoo in the form of a series of numbers.
"96.XXXIX.05" Lev looked at the man and tried to make a connection. Finally it hit him, when he was a ganger he fought with an armed intervention of the imperial guard, nothing big just a food riot, the governor sent a penal legion to deal with it and while the numbers on their heads were different he knew that the man standing before him was a penal legionnaire.
"So the Imperial Guard has an interest in wayward adepts? I'm surprised." He tried to put up an act of confidence but failed as the man across the room unnerved him.
"You know what I was? My master will be pleased, but no I'm not part of the Guard, though I was before. I serve a greater power now."
"And what power is that, you were saying?"
"The Inquisition" the guardsman pulled his cloak away showing an ornate carapace armor, a chainsword and a gold plated bolt pistol. From his left pauldron hung the inquisitorial rosette. Lev came crashing down as his balance was disturbed by the implications of his situation. "Do not fear me assassin, I'm here to congratulate you. You passed my master's test."
The Guardsman pulled his hood over the head. "Welcome to the rest of your life, Lev Zaxarevich."